A Place to Sigh: Israel Memorial Day

Thousands of strangers come to the funeral of a soldier who was kidnapped, tortured and killed because of his Star of David.

I once went to a funeral – a spring funeral – at the military cemetery in Jerusalem. An Israeli soldier had been killed. Another name was added to a list, a long list, of Jews who have given their lives in the past 60 years so that the Jewish State of Israel might live.

I didn't know this particular soldier, but it didn't matter. He was one of ours – our children, our soldiers, our sons, our people. His name was Jason.

He had come to Israel alone, from Montreal, and had joined the Israel Defense Force. Now his parents, stunned, bewildered, jet lagged, disoriented, had hurriedly come to join him one last time – for his funeral.

The mother who brought forth a child from her womb would now return him to the womb of the earth. The father who dreamed of escorting his son to the marriage canopy, now followed him to the grave.

He was so young, their son. Old enough to be a soldier; old enough to have made aliyah, but barely finished with the business of being a boy. He thought he was returning to his ancient homeland to begin a new life. How could he know he was coming home to end his short sojourn in this world?

The funeral should have been a week earlier, but it took four or five days to find his body.

The funeral should have been a week earlier, but it took four or five days to find his body. You see, Jason had been kidnapped and then brutally slaughtered by terrorists. Then a huge snow storm in Canada grounded all planes. No one knew if his parents would arrive on time.

So thousands of strangers came in their place. They did not know Jason personally, but they claimed him as their own, perhaps because he had come to them alone. Like our father Abraham, Jason had left the safe and familiar to follow his God and to join his people in the Promised Land.

He wore their khaki uniform and stood side by side with his brothers and sisters, willing to endanger his life and, if need be, make the ultimate sacrifice for their welfare. In ancient Egypt, Pharaoh had buried Jewish infants in the walls and monuments memorializing Egypt's dead. Now, Jewish soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a living wall to protect Jewish children and keep them alive. Jason stood with them.

He was kidnapped, tortured and killed because of a khaki uniform, a blue and white flag, a Star of David. Because "in every generation, they rise up against us to destroy us." Because he was a glowing, living stone in our protective wall. Because he was a son of Abraham, a son of the covenant, a Jew in a Jewish land.

His parents spent 20 years or so raising him – through fevers and vaccinations and summer vacations and birthday parties and worries and hopes – many, many hopes. They were all laid to rest on that gray, spring afternoon in the Holy City of Jerusalem.

Communal Sigh

I was swept along in the sea of silent marchers. They edged silently forward, crunching the gravel of well-tended paths beneath their feet. The air was heavy with silence and sighs. All along the paths they sighed. Old people and young. Thousands and thousands of them, parents carrying babies, students holding books, soldiers toting guns.

They stopped before the freshly dug gravesite and the sweeping, communal sigh was heard again.

They stopped before the freshly dug gravesite and the sweeping, communal sigh was heard again. They huddled together, each one alone, before that awful gap in the ground. The earth lay open and exposed, its surface turned back like flaps of skin on a human chest, ready for surgery.

Was the gaping hole a wound in the heart of the land? Or had the land opened its heart to embrace yet another son and gather in his war-torn body as his soul journeyed onward?

No one spoke. There were no words. Only heavy, heart-weary sighs.

The almond trees were in bloom. Frothy-white blossoms covered the mountaintop like spring brides hovering over still, sleeping grooms. Life and death mingled like old friends at a party. For some, life in all its turbulence would, meanwhile, go on. For others, time was forever stilled. The exact date was etched on stone.

Even the birds were still that day. Hundreds of trees grace Mount Herzl and thousands of birds daily fill the mountainside with their music. But that day all were strangely mute. Suddenly, one lonely songbird pierced the wall of silence with a stunning serenade.

"Do not despair! This is not the end! A soul has returned to his Maker, but there is still work waiting to be done, worlds to be built, songs to be sung. The world is alive with the promise of spring. God wills that life go on!"

Jason was no more, but Am Yisrael Chai – his people are alive.

The crowd listened to the Kaddish prayer and said a hushed, muted "Amen." Then sighed.

Cry in Peace

It is not easy to carry the burden of the Land of Israel. It is no simple matter to be deserving of this ancient, holy, demanding Homeland. For the Wandering Jew, even a small plot of land, just big enough to hold a military coffin, comes with a steep price. Even when the land is ours.

The cemetery is peaceful, quiet, very beautiful. The mountain is terraced with waves of neatly tended, low, square stones, each one lovingly landscaped and decorated, bordered with bright flowers and green plants. Each stone is carefully lettered with a name, parents' names, date of birth, place of birth, date of death. The letters are silent, but the stones cry – for those who died so that after two thousand years, the Jewish people might finally live – in peace – in their own Promised Land.

Those who lie here have a right to this exclusive piece of holy land.

Those who lie here have a right to this lovely hill, this exclusive piece of land overlooking the Holy City of Jerusalem. They have paid for it with precious life's blood. And we have a right to our Promised Land. But there is a price, even for a promise. When, I wonder, will the price be paid in full? My eyes wander across the seemingly endless rows of stones. They fill with tears.

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About the Author

Yaffa Ganz is the award winning author of forty titles for Jewish children, two books of essays for adults and many articles of Jewish interest in Jewish publications worldwide. She has written the popular Savta Simcha series and Sand and Stars - A Jewish Journey Through Time (a two volume Jewish history book for teen readers). The Ganzes live in Jerusalem.

Visitor Comments: 11

(10)
Jim.Wright,
May 14, 2012 3:31 PM

Why?

What does hate,anger and death profit a man?I read your articles daily and I still don't understand why terrorists wish to kill and destroy Israel and it's people.Why can't they see the truth?How do they stay so blinded by Hate.G-d forgive them,many times it is passed on through the generations,but I feel as if my heart has been ripped from my body.May the G-d of Abraham,Issac and Jacob keep All Israelis safe and protected.I only wish that I could be there.As an American who Loves Israel and the people,I am with all of you,in my Heart.G-d Bless all who stand with Israel,and with they're Military..

(9)
Charlie Kalech,
April 18, 2002 12:00 AM

Jason's memory on Yom HaZikron

Driving to reserve duty on the evening of Israel's Memorial Day, I approached a small park on the side of the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv Highway as the hour of 8pm approached when Israel would come to a standstill and stand in a moment of silence for the fallen as sirens sounded. I pulled to the side, parked my car and waited.

Nine years earlier, while I was serving my compulsory service in the Israel Defense Forces after immigrating from the United States, a soldier's body had been found here. At that time, a standard terrorist attack was the abduction of Israeli citizens and their murder. There were also drive-by shootings and more massive attacks.

Yehoshua Friedberg's body had been found, several days after he'd been missing in March 1993. I was among the first to hear the news, having been stationed in the I.D.F. Spokesperson's Unit. I was touched in a way that I have never been able to shake. Like me, Yehoshua (Jason) had come to Israel from North America and was serving his compulsory service before beginning his life here. Like me, Jason travelled to and from his home in Jerusalem, where, like me he had a serious girlfriend. Like me, he left his family overseas, including his parents, to follow his dream. Yehoshua never got to follow his dream. He never saw his parents again. He never married that girlfriend. He never had children. I stood on that spot as the siren sounded. I thought of all the things that he never had, all the things which had been taken from him in a brutal murder, all the things which I am fortunate enough to have. As I have since the day it happened, I kept thinking, it could have been me.

I send this to you in the hope that you will post it and that what I have written will get to his parents and his friends. It is part of a longer peice I would like to share with them.

Like you, although I never knew him, Jason's life touches me deeply. His memory is a blessing and he is constantly in my thoughts.

(8)
Anonymous,
April 16, 2002 12:00 AM

Author's comments 2002

A PLACE TO SIGH: Israel Memorial Day 2000/5760

Your one-line summary:

Author's comment

Your comment on this article:

Today is Yom Hazikaron 5762, Israel Memorial Day 2002. Almost nine years have passed since the murder of Yehoshua Friedberg hy"d. In the original article which appeared in my book "Cinnamon and Myrrh" (1994), Yehoshua was called - correctly - by his Hebrew name. In this net version of the article, Yehoshua was incorrectly and inadvertently translated as "Josh". I wish to inform the readers that his English name was "Jason"; his Hebrew name was Yehoshua Yehuda.

In the past nine years, many other Jews have been killed defending the Jewish people in the Jewish Land. It is in the merit of these brave and selfless sons of Israel that our tiny, beleaguered state continues to exist, to flourish and please G-d, to slowly advance towards a time of true peace. May we merit it soon. Yaffa Ganz

(7)
Rabbi Mordechai Bulua,
April 27, 2001 12:00 AM

Rabbi eulogizes Jason (Yehoshua)

4 Iyar 5761
April 27, 2001

Dear Yaffa,
After reading your moving article, I felt I must write. I never knew Yehoshua personally. However, I am the rabbi at the Herziliah-Talmud Torah School in Montreal, where Yehoshua was a student. Our services are held in the gynmasium where Yehoshua's basketball jersey hangs on the wall as a memorial. Starting in the year 5759 (1998), I introduced during Yizkor the prayer for the Israeli Defense Forces. The prayer took on added significance for us, knowing that Yehoshua was killed while serving in the army. I asked his parents if I could speak briefly about their son before Yizkor. The following are a few of the thoughts I shared with my congregants.
Yehoshua was a very special young man. Poor students would often ask him for a loan which he gladly gave. When the student came to repay the loan, Yehoshua would show in his notepad that the amount was already crossed out and refused to take the person's money! Yehoshua was very careful about saying or hearing lashon hara. (evil speech)When people said something derogatory in his presence, he would walk out of the room to show his displeasure. Yehoshua loved learning and teaching Torah, and when he was home, he volunteered to teach Gemorra to the members of his shul. He was a natural communicator, and people marvelled at his teaching abilities.
These are just some of the qualities of the late Yehoshua Friedberg, May G-d avenge his blood, which should be immortalized. Yehi Zichro Baruch.

Rabbi Mordechai Bulua

Susanne cockle,
April 16, 2013 1:43 AM

What an amazing young man. To walk out of a room when someone spoke negatively about someone. And to forgive loan's of fellow students. He was an inspirational young man. Thank you for sharing. I have a Flag given to my husband years ago from on of his cousins who served in the Israel Army. This is a very special flag to me and it hangs above my son's bed. I pray that the G-D of our father Abraham will continue to protect Israel and peace will come for The Jewish people.

(6)
Ahuva Keshet,
April 26, 2001 12:00 AM

THE WORLD

I LIVED 26 YEARS IN ISRAEL AND NOW I HAVE BEEN IN U.S. FOR 6 YEARS. I CAN TELL YOU, NOW AS I KNEW IN ISRAEL. THE ISRAELI SOLDIER IS HOLDING UP THE WORLD MILITARILY. THE BRAVE SON AND HUSBAND THAT IS GOING BY ONES AND TWO IN THE NIGHT WHERE THE MOON IS THE ONLY LIGHT AND YOU CAN HEAR THE BARKING OF THE WILD DOGS ON IN THE NOON DAY SUN DRESSED AS AN ARAB WOMAN OR MAN CAPTURING THE TERRORISTS OR GETTING VITAL INFORMATION. THIS YOUNG MAN IS SAVING THE WORLD MILITARILY. EVERY ARMY LOOKS TO THIS BRAVE BOY OF OURS FOR THE TRUE NORTH STAR. THIS, AS AN ISRAELIE WE TAKE FOR GRANTED AND AS AN AMERICAN JEW IT IS UNBELIEVABLE THE DEPTH OF THEIR IGNORANCE. THE PRAYERS OF THE JEWS IS WHAT IS GIVING US G-D'S GRACE AND PROTECTION MINUTE BY MINUTE, HOUR BY HOUR. WE HAVE SO VERY MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR AND HUMBLED BY.
HAG SAMEACH TO US ALL.

(5)
Anonymous,
April 25, 2001 12:00 AM

Response From The Author

Dear cohen-gulko@yahoo.com ---

Your comments to the article on Yehoshua (Jason) Friedberg left me feeling very saddened.

Each of us has many different faces. For you, "Jason was something of a goof, a very funny guy and a fine basketball player" from Montreal. For us, Yehoshua was a young Jew who joined us in Israel and was willing to give his life for his people and his land.

Keeping him frozen in your own youthful student memories as nothing other than a funny, goofy guy and fine basketball player who got killed "living his life the way he felt he needed to" dwarfs him and locks him out of the greater dimension he chose to live in. It robs his life of some of the meaning he gave to it. You wrote that you didn't know him all that well and you lost contact with him after graduation. People grow up, develop, change.
Some people even turn into heroes, even when that wasn't on their agenda. The rabbis taught that anyone who gave his life for the Jewish people, or who was killed because he was a Jew, is elevated to the status of kiddush Hashem – a martyr. Does becoming a martyr or a hero dehumanize? Just the opposite. It reminds us that human beings are capable of doing great, heroic things and that our lives have symbolic value as well as personal value.

We all owe a great debt to Yehoshua. Being "a nice guy" is a fairly easy, simple, one might even say a "cheap" way to get through life. Becoming more than "nice" means finding faith and commitment and accepting responsibility. It means becoming more human, greater, and sometimes, heroic.

Perhaps Yehoshua didn't just get killed living his life "the way he felt he needed to". Perhaps there is such a thing as living life as one should live it, a life based on some
absolute good which obligates and uplifts.

Our rabbis taught us that we are obligated to be grateful to anyone who has done any good for us – in any area, whether big or small. They warned that if we fail to be grateful, we will also fail in developing a proper relationship with God Himself. We owe Yehoshua. And we owe it to God and to ourselves not to forget it. Good luck!

Yaffa Ganz

(4)
Tim Ball,
April 24, 2001 12:00 AM

LOVE

I sit and read. My crawling baby boy boy gazing up at me trying to figure out what the water flowing down my face is. But I will teach him as he grows why he has a Jewish first and middle name...and why I cry...

I am a Gentile, but I care so deeply about it all.

Please know that I am outside the wall weeping when you weep. I am on a hill rejoicing when you celebrate your festivals. Knowing that the King of the Universe has chosen his people Israel for a reason and a purpose.

I may never see Israel. I may never visit Jerusalem. But know that as Ruth and Uriah (the Hittite, and my sons middle name) I consider your G-d my G-d and His people proof of His plan still in place.

Please let Josh's parents know that one more weeps for their son as I can hear him crawling on the floor in the steady padding of my baby boy as he comes to me. As I pick him up in my hands I can see in my mind the years they had with Josh and I cry.

My prayer for his parents is that G-d washes sorrow from their hearts and replaces it with a memorial of love and triumph for a son who stands for all that is good in Israel... For their is no greater gift that their son could give.

In Love and Faith,

Tim Ball
Watsonville, CA. USA

(3)
Fred Lee,
April 23, 2001 12:00 AM

Enjoyed Yaffa Ganz's essays tremendously. These should be read in all synagogues (and schools) throughout the USA. A tip of the hat to Ms. Ganz.

(2)
Leonard Cohen,
April 23, 2001 12:00 AM

His name wasn't Josh, it was Jason

His English name wasn't Josh, Yaffa, it was Jason (Yehoshua) Friedberg. He took on his Hebrew name Yehoshua when he made aliyah - which may account for the confusion.

We used to play basketball against him in high school. His school and mine were two separate branches of Herzliah High School in Montreal - he at St. Laurent, myself at Snowdon. There was always a friendly rivalry between the two schools, which include basketball.

Jason was something of a goof, a very funny guy who wouldn't hesitate to make a joke about anything. I wore an old taped-up pair of glasses for ball games - so he called me "Rambis" after Kurt Rambis, unanimously the ugliest player in the NBA at the time. The nickname stuck, at least whenever our school played theirs.

At 6'3" or so, Jason played center. This was a Jewish high school league - so being 6'3" was tall enough to make you center. He played extremely well. One of his father's comments after his son had passed away was to the extent that, "I didn't teach him much, except how to play basketball - and he did that really well." Which is true - he was a standout on his team.

I didn't know much about him otherwise, and after graduation in '85 had pretty much forgotten about him until I heard the news of his kidnapping and murder in Israel.

Then I recall the eulogies, the articles, the outpouring of very sincere grief... And at the same time, there began this construction of Jason as some sort of hero and martyr. Yet it makes me bristle to this day to hear Jason talked about that way. I feel in some way it dehumanizes him (as it does with any soldier) to think of him as anything other than what he was - a funny, nice guy and fine basketball player... who got killed living his life the way he felt he needed to.

(1)
valerie corbett,
July 2, 2000 12:00 AM

I sighed

What a wonderful piece of writing. As a Christian woman, living in a land torn apart by terrorism for nearly 30 years, there was so much that I could identify with. So many of our young policemen and soldiers murdered and some missing, but I could never have put it into the golden words that you have penned.

Young men and women in Israel, too young to die in a land that many will disgard for a false Peace.